


nightshade

by Nekositting



Series: It Came and It Went: A Tumblr Prompt Repository [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant, Disturbing Themes, Extended Metaphors, F/M, Mental Instability, Not Beta Read, POV Third Person Limited, Psychological Horror, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 21:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18039683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekositting/pseuds/Nekositting
Summary: She wanted it. Wanted it as a starved predator yearned for the snap of bone and the wrench of flesh, wanted it as the wounded bird wished to fleet away into the sky.It was wrong. She shouldn't. She couldn't. She mustn't—But she did.You do.





	nightshade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InfallibleAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfallibleAngel/gifts).



> This is seriously twisted, confusing, and disturbing.
> 
> Read on at your own risk. This was an idea InfallibleAngel posed to me about writing (or at least, attempting) to write a "Yandere" Hermione. I got about as close as I could.

Hermione imagined what it would be like to be Tom. It was a ridiculous thought, she knew, but she couldn't help herself.

The what-ifs manifested themselves behind her clenched eyelids. Unstoppable and malignant.

_ What if you could stand above them without having to prove yourself at every turn? What if you could smile and everyone stop just to gaze at it for longer? What if you could be loved and admired in much the same way they loved him? _

She wanted it. Wanted it as a starved predator yearned for the snap of bone and the wrench of flesh, wanted it as the wounded bird wished to fleet away into the sky.

It was wrong. She shouldn't. She couldn't. She mustn't—

But she did.

_ You do. _

A voice much like his whispered into the back of her mind.

_ You do, you do, you do, and this want poisons your blood. _

She bit her tongue to drown out the words buzzing in the back of her head. The sharp sting of her teeth wasn't nearly enough.

_ If you want it, then take it. _

It made a twisted kind of sense. There was nothing wrong with taking what one wanted, with reaching and striving and fighting for what one desired more than anything else.

But this was more than wasting away in the library and studying for exams, this was more than staying up into the late hours of the evening and memorising spells and pushing one's body beyond the breaking point. No.

This was death.

She wanted him to die, to cease to exist, to take his place and—

She wanted to be Tom Riddle. The desire was so putrid it made her sick with it.

"Hermione?"

She didn't move from her place, the books scattered about in much the same way as her thoughts.

_ No, no, no, he shouldn’t be here. _

Her panic swelled, threatening to swallow her whole.

A sigh thundered through the empty library and it was like a gunshot in a  darkened alley. She stilled, teeth catching on her cheek at the same time something warm settled over her shoulder.

_ Mmm yes.  _ That voice— _ his voice _ —purred in the back of her mind.

It took everything she possessed to stop from flinching away, from pressing closer to the warmth oozing from what could only be  _ his _ hand.

"Are you alright?" Tom's voice filtered through her senses, rending her apart and together, and both and neither. She gnashed her teeth at the same time the urge to slap his hand away shot up her spine. She had to keep it together, to  _ compose  _ herself, this was Tom and—

_ Composure is key, sweetheart. You won't get what you want if you give yourself away,  _ he whispered in her mind, sweet and sugary and biting. It was him but not. It was obvious this voice wasn’t Tom, couldn’t possibly be. Not when was  _ here _ , in her space, touching her bloody  _ shoulder _ . He couldn’t be in two places at once.

_ Are you sure? _ Humour was so thick in his tone she could have choked on it. Hermione ignored it, rushing to reply before Tom noticed, before he asked her again if she was okay and she was forced to blurt everything, and  _ god _ , she couldn’t bear that.

"Y-yes, everything is fine. Just a bit overworked, is all."

The lie was easy. Safe. It wasn't far from the truth.

His hand squeezed her—to reassure, to comfort, she didn't know—and she turned. She forced herself to look.

_ Oh. _

The poison in her blood curdled at the sight of his sooty lashes and smooth skin. He was as beautiful as ever. An angel in the flesh. Her teeth ached with the urge to bite and take that face for herself. The horror and disgust the thought elicited were not too far behind.

"Good. It wouldn't do for the brightest witch of our age to become indisposed."

_ Smile. _

Hermione’s lips curved despite the primal violence now pushing against her skin. It was a fierce churn, like the slap of a rip current against the hull of an ancient ship.

"We definitely wouldn't want that," Hermione found herself saying, her tongue and her teeth foreign and suddenly too big in her mouth. She hadn’t meant to talk. Those words, she didn't know where they had come from. 

Dread crept over her senses like the graze of clawed fingertips against the nape of her neck. She was losing control. This was it. She was losing her bloody  _ mind _ .

Tom's lips twisted into a beatific smile, his dark eyes brightening and warming in a way Hermione had never seen before. Her unease dissipated at once, her mind emptying of all thought but the way his eyes drank her in and that  _ voice _ .

That voice didn’t leave. It refused. It festered and rotted and clung to the folds of her brain. It was so fucking  _ loud _ . Insistent.

_ Bide your time and you can have this warmth to yourself. Take your time and he will be yours. Watch him, listen to him, understand him, and you will never want for anything. Bide your time and you can possess him, own him. _

Hermione's fingers were moving before she could register the gesture, sliding over Tom’s hand still wrapped around her shoulder and squeezing. The instant her fingers met his, it was like a punch in the gut, like sinking to the bottom of the deepest lake.

_ Now, look at him _ .

Hermione obeyed without hesitation.

Tom’s pretty face was frozen into a mask, a notable tremor to his fingers that hadn’t been present before. Hermione ate his expression up. Drank it in.  _ Merlin _ , it looked like—

Hermione's fingers tightened over his, restraining him before he could even think to pull away.

His face was cracking at the edges, falling further apart. It was  _ glorious _ . Beautiful.

_ Do you see? Do you see? Can't you see? Take it. Take him. Steal it away. He's you and you are him, who you could be— _

"But that's why we have you, don't we? Our esteemed Head Boy to look after us should we lose ourselves."

Tom Riddle’s eyes flashed, a hundred different emotions sparking in their depths.

Uncertainty. Unease. Curiosity. Hunger. Desire.

_ Fear _ .

The fear nearly undid Hermione's self-control.

"So it would seem," he said after a pause. His voice had lost some of its confidence, its assurances, as if he didn't know what to make of her, what to expect from her anymore.

Hermione's mouth pooled with moisture, a hunger pulsing in time to the wild beats of her heart.

_ He's only human, Hermione. But you could be more. Are more. _

Hermione knew it now. She didn't have to yearn, to want, to crave. She was already who she needed to be. She was already him, if not better.

No.

She  _ was _ better.

She simply had to show him, show them, prove it to herself.

"Nonsense," Hermione said, the words flowing and ebbing in her brain. The uncertainty, the hesitation, her reservations melted away. She'd never felt more confident in her life.

"You do so much for us."

_ More than he even knows, _ that voice crooned into her head.  _ More than even you knew. _

Hermione couldn't agree more.

Silence bloomed between them, sweet and thick as molasses. She basked in it, watching him as he watched her. He’d yet to let her go, to pull away from her own grip on his hand. Like he was just as trapped as she was in the moment, like he couldn’t escape her any more than she could escape herself.

And then, Tom's hand fell away. A raw and cataclysmic emptiness spread through her in an instant. She missed his warmth already.

_ Come back. Come back. Come back. Comebackcomebackcomebackcomback. _

“Thank you.”

His voice tore her away from her panic-laden thoughts, from the desperate need and hunger pooling in her stomach. Like lava, it threatened to spill out from inside her and ruin everything in her path.

_ You have to wait, sweetheart. _

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, to calm herself, to right her thoughts, to put away the desperation thrumming in her veins.

“I’ll see you around, Granger.”

And then he was gone before she could think to respond. The only thing that remained of him was the warmth of his touch and the echo of the library door falling shut.

It was almost like—

Hermione couldn’t finish the thought.

_ You know it, don’t you? Say it. Admit it. Embrace it. You know you’re right. You can feel it, can’t you? _

—he was desperate to get away.  _ Afraid. _

Hermione's stomach cramped and her knees buckled with euphoria.

_ He’s afraid of you, of what you feel, of who you are, of what you want. He’s afraid because he knows, he recognises within himself that he is less and that you are more. _

He was afraid.

He was  _ afraid. _

Hermione’s heart felt like it would burst. She tore away from the table, books and parchment scattering to the floor. Her skin was hot, her insides tight and wet and spilling down her sweaty thighs.

_ I need to go _ .

She didn’t know what was happening to her, why she was—

_ You want him. You want him. Youwanthimyouwanthimyouwanthim. _

She burst out of the library doors. She didn’t look back, didn’t care that her bag and her books and her papers had been left behind. She had to leave. She needed to see Madame Pomfrey. Something was wrong.

_ If you’re hungry, then eat. _

Tears dribbled down her cheeks, a sob catching in her mouth when another wave of want wracked through her.

_ If you’re thirsty, then drink. _

Hermione tripped on her two feet and hit the ground. The floor scraped against her naked palms and her elbows. She forced herself back on her feet even when her knees began to quake, the world spin.

_ If you want him, then take him. _

Something burst from her belly, spilled and tangled along her ankles. Naked and raw and wounded. She was gazing at another her, at another girl with wild curls and tan skin.

_ If you want to be him, then you must die. _

Hermione’s teeth were biting into the girl’s neck before she could stop herself. Bitterness flooded her mouth, suffocating her. She chewed and tore until there was nothing but bones, until the face staring back at her was Tom’s and hers and theirs and— _ and _ —

_ Oh god, what is this? _

Blood was splattered on the floor, meat clung to her lips and mouth. There were entrails snaked around her ankles, and her clothes were stuck to her skin. She was cold and wet. Everything was confusing and jumbled and—

Tom’s dark eyes were on hers, unblinking and empty. Dead.

A gorge rose from deep in her stomach, but nothing came up when she began to heave and gag. She was empty. So, so empty, even when she knew, even when she was certain she’d gorged herself on her flesh, on his, on herself.

_ No, what have I done? What have I— _

_ What was necessary. _

His voice echoed in her head, spilled through her ears, bled into her pores, filtered straight out of her mouth. She wasn’t alone.

Hermione curled into herself, another sob wracking through her.

He was dead. She had killed him. She had  _ killed  _ him. This couldn’t be real. This had to be a dream, some terrible fucking nightmare. This was all in her head. Had to be. Could only be. 

_ Silly girl.  _

Hermione pressed her hands to her ears to drown out his voice, to silence the incessant buzzing in the back of her ears.

_ Just because it’s in your head doesn’t make it any less real. _


End file.
